He steps closer to me and grips my chin between his thumb and pointer, bringing my eyes to his. “You have me.” He sinks to his knees and leans back on his heels. “I don’t think you understand how I feel about you, Charlotte.”
His manic behavior has evaporated, leaving behind the sweet Lucas. The one who holds me while I cry. The one who loves me.
I bite my lip, trying to hide my sad laugh. “I don’t think you even know how you feel about me.”
He tilts his head and lets his body sag. “I’d do anything for you, Charlie. I don’t see why that’s so hard to believe.”
“Because you’re not the first person to tell me that. I mean, look at us. We hardly know each other. The only thing we share is fucking grief.”
He inhales a deep breath, then stands. “I’m not him, Charlie. Period. When will you fucking see that?”
I stare up at him and weigh my words carefully. For so long I’ve wanted Lucas in every way, but now that I can have him, I’m scared. Plain and simple. So fucking terrified that he will hurt me the same way Teddy did. That all of his words are nothing more than lies.
“Prove it,” I state.
“How?” His brows furrow together.
“Make me forget him in all of the bad ways. Take the pain away.”
“You know I can’t do that,” he sighs. “I would have already done it if I could.”
“You can…” I trail off and lift my shirt over my head, then stand to meet him.
With shaky hands, I undo his tie and hold it in one hand as I move the other down to the button on his slacks. I try to push it through the hole, but his hand clasps over my fingers. “You don’t have to do this, Charlie. Not right now.”
I look up and stare into his eyes. His brown ones seem so sad—so unsure. “Please. Do this for me.”
I can see the conflict on his face, but I know he’ll give in. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I give him a soft smile and try to calm my suddenly shaking hands. “This isn’t hurting me, Lucas. This is taking the hurt away. I’d rather have these memories with you—I’d rather want them. Please.”
He nods. “You lead the way, then. Tell me what to do.”
I wet my lips and reach for his slacks again. I finally unbutton them, then pull the zipper down before moving back up to his shirt. One by one I open each button slowly, dragging my fingers over his skin in the process. Once his shirt is open, I push it down his slack arms and let it fall to the floor.
I have to remind myself this is Lucas. This isn’t Teddy.
I look at his body closer than I ever have before. I run the tips of my fingers over the inked black lines covering his stomach, then follow them to his chest, all the way to his neck. I tell myself over and over he isn’t Teddy and try to calm my nerves. As much as I’ve wanted this, now that it’s here, the only thing running through my mind is Teddy and the night he…
“Hey.” He hunches down and levels his eyes with mine. “We don’t have to do this.”
I shake my head. “I need this,” I all but plea.
His sorrow-filled eyes bore into mine with so many questions, and it practically eats me alive. I close my eyes for a moment and remind myself everything is in my control. I place the tie into my other hand, keeping one end secured in my other. Slowly I lift it up and place it over his eyes, then maneuver behind him and tie it in place.
I remove the rest of my clothes bit by bit, then push his pants down. His hands instinctively go out to his sides as he kicks them off before falling back down. His chest heaves slowly, and I swear I can hear his heartbeat, or maybe it’s mine thrashing in my ears.
I reach out with a trembling hand and ease the waistband of his boxers down. His dick lies slack between his legs, but with a single touch it almost jolts to life.
“Charlie?” he questions. When I don’t answer, he continues. “You tell me to stop.” I nod like he can hear me.
He reaches forward, touching my shoulders, then drags me to him. Slowly—so fucking slowly—he runs his hands down to my arms, then around to my back. When they stop at the small of my back, my breath hitches. He leaves them there, almost like he’s making sure I’m still okay.
When his fingers crawl up my neck again, to the back of my scalp, then tangle into my hair, my chest tightens. I take in a deep breath, then grab his hand with mine and bring it in front of my face. When I see his tattooed knuckles and the inked part of the top of his hand, all of my anxiety almost melts away.
I let go and stand still, letting his hands trail all over my naked body. He takes his time, making sure every touch is gentle. “Are you okay?”
“Keep going.” My voice cracks, and the first tear falls.
He sucks in a breath, then moves his hands to the front of my body. They rake over my chest, cupping my breasts, before moving to my stomach. Gripping my hips, he pulls me into him. His lips find mine and press into me softly. Calmly he kisses me, taking his time, letting his lips move at my pace. His tongue flicks out and runs along the seam of my lips. I open my mouth and twirl it with mine, lapping at his taste.
Without breaking our kiss, he takes a few steps until the back of my knees hit the bed. He holds the back of my head with one hand and keeps the other in place on my hip.
